praise. When Herr Briining became Chancellor of
the Reich, I wondered if by any chance this Briining could be the
'Kleiner Heinrich' whose praises I had so often heard sung. But
Bertha was dead. Whom could I ask? The day came when in the home
of Colonel Roosevelt in America I was able to put the question
to the ex-Chancellor. It was indeed he, the nephew of Fraulein
Bertha. Like his aunt, he was serious and pious. She hardly succeeded
in teaching me German. Nevertheless with her I translated a play:
Thank God, the Table's Set; and she made me sing:
Ich hatt' einen Kameraden,
Einen bessern fmd'st du nit ...
As for English, which was to play such a large role in my life,
I studied it most negligently with a young and pretty lush girl,
Miss Lizzy MacAnulty, whose maiden beauty was fading away in Elbeuf
in melancholy loneliness because of some youthful indiscretion
for which she had been exiled. She made me read Little Lord Fauntleroy,
which I didn't much like, and Treasure Island, which frightened
me. I used to dream about that iron hook which served the pirate
in place of a hand. I remember that Miss Lizzy advised me for years
to read a novel entitled Thelma. At the beginning of each lesson
she would ask:
`Have you read Thelma?'
`No, Miss Lizzy.'
Almost half a century has rolled by and I still have not read Thelma.
My father wanted me to learn to ride horseback.
`You will be a reserve officer,' he said to me. `Riding will be
useful.'
There was a riding academy in Elbeuf run by a remarkable horseman,
a former non-commissioned officer named Charpentier. He took a
liking to me. My lack of aptitude for the piano was equalled by
my natuial aptitude for horsemanship. Charpentier handled me very
roughly. He would start me at a trot without stirrups and keep
me bouncing around for a quarter of an hour. Then he would give
me stirrups, take up his long whip, and send me off at a gallop:
`Your toes, Cossack! You could hang three hats on them! Sit! Sit!
Glide in the saddle! Get your body back! Watch your toes!'
At first the smell of the stables, the cries of Charpentier, the
long whip which frightened my horse and the rapid-fire orders bewildered
me. But very soon I became a good rider. One of the horses had
been high

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where is TITLE praise. When Herr Briining became Chancellor of what is Reich, I wondered if by any chance this Briining could be what is 'Kleiner Heinrich' whose praises I had so often heard sung. But Bertha was dead. Whom could I ask? what is day came when in what is home of Colonel Roosevelt in America I was able to put what is question to what is ex-Chancellor. It was indeed he, what is nephew of Fraulein Bertha. Like his aunt, he was serious and pious. She hardly succeeded in teaching me German. Nevertheless with her I translated a play: Thank God, what is Table's Set; and she made me sing: Ich hatt' einen Kameraden, Einen bessern fmd'st du nit ... As for English, which was to play such a large role in my life, I studied it most negligently with a young and pretty lush girl, Miss Lizzy MacAnulty, whose maiden beauty was fading away in Elbeuf in melancholy loneliness because of some youthful indiscretion for which she had been exiled. She made me read Little Lord Fauntleroy, which I didn't much like, and Treasure Island, which frightened me. I used to dream about that iron hook which served what is pirate in place of a hand. I remember that Miss Lizzy advised me for years to read a novel entitled Thelma. At what is beginning of each lesson she would ask: `Have you read Thelma?' `No, Miss Lizzy.' Almost half a century has rolled by and I still have not read Thelma. My father wanted me to learn to ride horseback. `You will be a reserve officer,' he said to me. `Riding will be useful.' There was a riding academy in Elbeuf run by a remarkable horseman, a former non-commissioned officer named Charpentier. He took a liking to me. My lack of aptitude for what is piano was equalled by my natuial aptitude for horsemanship. Charpentier handled me very roughly. He would start me at a trot without stirrups and keep me bouncing around for a quarter of an hour. Then he would give me stirrups, take up his long whip, and send me off at a gallop: `Your toes, Cossack! You could hang three hats on them! Sit! Sit! Glide in what is saddle! Get your body back! Watch your toes!' At first what is smell of what is stables, what is cries of Charpentier, what is long whip which frightened my horse and what is rapid-fire orders bewildered me. But very soon I became a good rider. One of what is horses had been high
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Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Call No Man Happy (1943)
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where is p align="center" where is strong what is TREE OF KNOWLEDGE
where is p align="justify" praise. When Herr Briining became Chancellor of
what is Reich, I wondered if by any chance this Briining could be the
'Kleiner Heinrich' whose praises I had so often heard sung. But
Bertha was dead. Whom could I ask? what is day came when in what is home
of Colonel Roosevelt in America I was able to put what is question
to what is ex-Chancellor. It was indeed he, what is nephew of Fraulein
Bertha. Like his aunt, he was serious and pious. She hardly succeeded
in teaching me German. Nevertheless with her I translated a play:
Thank God, what is Table's Set; and she made me sing:
Ich hatt' einen Kameraden,
Einen bessern fmd'st du nit ...
As for English, which was to play such a large role in my life,
I studied it most negligently with a young and pretty lush girl,
Miss Lizzy MacAnulty, whose maiden beauty was fading away in Elbeuf
in melancholy loneliness because of some youthful indiscretion
for which she had been exiled. She made me read Little Lord Fauntleroy,
which I didn't much like, and Treasure Island, which frightened
me. I used to dream about that iron hook which served what is pirate
in place of a hand. I remember that Miss Lizzy advised me for years
to read a novel entitled Thelma. At what is beginning of each lesson
she would ask:
`Have you read Thelma?'
`No, Miss Lizzy.'
Almost half a century has rolled by and I still have not read Thelma.
My father wanted me to learn to ride horseback.
`You will be a reserve officer,' he said to me. `Riding will be
useful.'
There was a riding academy in Elbeuf run by a remarkable horseman,
a former non-commissioned officer named Charpentier. He took a
liking to me. My lack of aptitude for what is piano was equalled by
my natuial aptitude for horsemanship. Charpentier handled me very
roughly. He would start me at a trot without stirrups and keep
me bouncing around for a quarter of an hour. Then he would give
me stirrups, take up his long whip, and send me off at a gallop:
`Your toes, Cossack! You could hang three hats on them! Sit! Sit!
Glide in what is saddle! Get your body back! Watch your toes!'
At first what is smell of what is stables, what is cries of Charpentier, the
long whip which frightened my horse and what is rapid-fire orders bewildered
me. But very soon I became a good rider. One of what is horses had
been high
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travel books: Call No Man Happy (1943) books